


The Darkness in Your Soul

by CrashDevil (cjdevlin19)



Series: Colors of Darkness series [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse (Supernatural), Angst, F/M, Lucifer - Freeform, Reader-Insert
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-28
Updated: 2020-12-28
Packaged: 2021-03-11 03:13:54
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,130
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28378272
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cjdevlin19/pseuds/CrashDevil
Summary: Y/n is pretty much screwed when she's left in Detroit with a swarm of Croats trying to get her.~~~“I’ve seen Castiel many times. He’s a shell of what he used to be. He fills his system with chemicals, trying to feel something.” You sneered at the assessment. “You tried to, what, get him sober?”“No,” you denied, shaking your head. “I just…” You took a deep breath and stepped back. “I haven’t let myself become a degenerate and that made him realize...how far he’s fallen, I guess.”“And, what, he tried to make himself better...fer you?” Crowley asked.“I guess.”“And Dean set you up to die fer that?”“Punishment doesn’t quite fit the crime, does it?” Lucifer asked, smirking again. “Then again, Dean’s always had a bit of a temper, you know. And you inspiring Castiel to rediscover himself must have really pissed him off.”“Obviously,” you spit.“Trying to be a good person in a world of monsters got you set up-”“I am a good person,” you snapped, a chill of anxiety gripping you as you realized you just interrupted the Devil.
Relationships: Castiel (Supernatural)/You
Series: Colors of Darkness series [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2078379
Comments: 3
Kudos: 29





	The Darkness in Your Soul

**Story Warnings** : Dean is an asshole, angsty, Lucifer is manipulative, Y/n is hopeless,

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Spencer didn’t talk. The drive to Detroit was marred by silence that forced you to think about how you got where you were; driving to your probable death at the behest of a man who was supposed to be the hero in this post-Apocalyptic Bible story.

Hero. Yeah, sure.

You were going to die. You could feel it. You were unused to the world outside of Camp Chitaqua. You hadn’t seen a Croat in years. You were fucked.

Detroit was almost quiet when you arrived but almost as soon as you climbed out of the Jeep, the alley you were in was swarming with them. The Jeep was suddenly burning rubber and screeching tires as Spencer abandoned you.

“Fuck!” you screamed, scrambling on top of a dumpster and jumping for a rusty fire escape. Your fingers burned with friction as they grabbed the bar, your shoulders being yanked down by your bodyweight. You swung a bit as you tried to get your bearings. You grunted, trying to ignore the growling Croats under you as you pulled yourself up the ladder until you were able to find purchase for your feet on the lowest rung.

You grunted as you threw yourself on the first landing, cursing Spencer and Dean for putting you in this situation. You looked down long enough to recognize the Croats were climbing the dumpster to come after you. “Fuck!” You adjusted the shoulder straps for the bag on your back and started to climb higher.

“Who’d _you_ piss off?” a voice at the top of the fire escape asked. You gasped and looked up, eyes falling on a man in a smart black suit. The fact that he was pristinely clean gave him away as a demon. “Well? You just gonna stare at me all day while they get their single brain cell working or you gonna climb up here?”

“Croats below me, a demon above. Not really likin’ my chances.”

He smiled and laughed. “She’s a smart one, too. That must’ve caused waves back in camp. Now, if I wanted you dead, darling, I’d leave you to the rage machines. Come on.” He stepped onto the roof, beckoning to you. You looked down at the Croats, cursing before running up the fire escape to the roof. The demon cut his hand through the air as soon as you stepped onto the roof and the rusty fire escape groaned and pulled from the brick of the building, denying the Croats access. “That’s better. Name’s Crowley.”

You licked your lips and looked down at the wounded Croats in the alley. “Y/n,” you responded. “Why in the world would you save me?”

“Why did _you_ get abandoned in Detroit when you aren’t even one who ever leaves Camp Chitaqua?” he asked before shrugging. “Yer a mystery.”

“No, I’m not,” you disputed. “Said yourself, I pissed someone off.”

“Who? Dean Winchester?”

You shrugged and looked away from him. “Does it matter?”

“Oh, not really, but the boss is curious.”

‘The boss’. Lucifer. The idea that Lucifer was interested in you sent a chill up your spine.

“So, what’d you do to piss off the man?”

You rolled your eyes and shrugged again. “I tried to remind his best friend where he came from.”

“It’s not as though Castiel can ever go back to Heaven,” a voice behind you said, saying the Angel’s name in two syllables instead of the normal three. Fear wracked your body with shakes as you turned. You’d never been unlucky enough to see Lucifer before but you knew him on sight.

Tall as fuck, long fluffy hair, white suit and shoes, hazel eyes with a touch of red to them. The Devil in the flesh.

“How, exactly, were you reminding him?”

You didn’t speak. Fear wouldn’t let you.

“I’d answer, Y/n,” Crowley suggested.

“She’s scared, Crowley,” Lucifer said, smirking. “Give her a minute.”

His condescending tone made you scowl and you took a deep breath. “I didn’t...I just...treated him like he was still an Angel.”

“And Dean Winchester sent you to your death fer that?” Crowley asked.

“Well, he can’t control his pet Angel if Castiel wants to be a part of something bigger. Isn’t that right, Y/n?” Lucifer stepped closer to you and you tried to stop your shaking but all you could do was hug yourself. “I try to keep an eye on things, you know. It’s good to know what the ants are plotting. But your camp is heavily warded. That’s likely Castiel’s knowledge. Enochian magic to keep me out. I can only see them when they leave the safe zone. It’s how I knew you were unique, because I’ve never seen you leave the safety of camp before.”

He stepped right in front of you and looked down into your eyes. “I’ve seen Castiel many times. He’s a shell of what he used to be. He fills his system with chemicals, trying to _feel_ something.” You sneered at the assessment. “You tried to, what, get him sober?”

“No,” you denied, shaking your head. “I just…” You took a deep breath and stepped back. “I haven’t let myself become a degenerate and that made him realize...how far he’s fallen, I guess.”

“And, what, he tried to make himself better...fer you?” Crowley asked.

“I guess.”

“And Dean set you up to die fer _that_?”

“Punishment doesn’t quite fit the crime, does it?” Lucifer asked, smirking again. “Then again, Dean’s always had a bit of a temper, you know. And you inspiring Castiel to rediscover himself must have really pissed him off.”

“Obviously,” you spit.

“Trying to be a good person in a world of monsters got you set up-”

“I _am_ a good person,” you snapped, a chill of anxiety gripping you as you realized you just interrupted the Devil.

Instead of looking angry, he looked amused. “You’re right. The best specimen of humanity left, and what does that get you? It gets you abandoned in a Croatoan and demon infested cesspool with nothing to defend yourself. You’re putting in the effort to be the exception proving my rule that humans are terrible, greedy, _broken_ creatures and what do they do, Y/n? They vote you off the island.”

It struck you odd that Lucifer was referencing Survivor but his vessel must have known about it.

“Being good has brought you nothing but loneliness. You are the last of a dying breed.”

“And?” you snapped.

“And if those human monster are all that’s left, what's the point?” he said, suddenly behind you and leaning down next to your ear. “Right? I know you’ve thought it. If the humans don’t have any humanity, if the Angel doesn’t have any grace, what is there worth fighting for?”

You closed your eyes and tried to hold back the hopeless tears that sprung up in them. Using your own thoughts against you. Well, it was Lucifer, wasn’t it?

“It doesn’t really matter, does it?” you whispered, opening your eyes to find him in front of you again.

“Don’t you want it done, Y/n? Aren’t you tired of this broken world?”

“You broke it. You ruined-”

“ _No_ ,” he said, forcefully, his eyes glowing red. “I set up dominoes, but I didn’t force them to fall. I would have been more than happy to fight my brother and finally finish this but Dean had to be stubborn.” You bit your lip as the red faded to hazel. “Sam was much more reasonable. He didn’t have much to fight for...and neither do you. So why fight?”

Sam. Dean’s brother was called Sam. Lucifer is wearing Dean’s brother as a vessel?

“Not much else to do,” you answered.

“You can stop,” he said. “You can let it be finally over, Y/n.”

You swallowed and looked away. “Suicide isn’t my style.”

“Wouldn’t have to be. I can end it for you. Easy, painless, a snap of my fingers and you’re done,” Lucifer volunteered. “All I ask is the opportunity to end the monsters at Camp Chitaqua, too.”

“What?” you practically barked at the Archangel.

“You go back to camp, find those little warding sigils and break them. Then I’ll come in and put an end to it all. The monster humans get to end just like you.”

“You want me to help you murder the rest of the survivors?” you whispered, appalled.

“I want you to help me _end_ this. They don’t deserve to keep breathing on my father’s creation.”

“I can’t just help you kill-”

“Even after they tried to kill you? Even after they’ve proved me right at every turn? They don’t deserve to live when they’ve become such a blight on God’s creation.”

You looked away, eyes falling on the demon. Lucifer was right. It was over. There was no fight left. There was just struggle. And why? Why struggle?”

“You find those sigils and destroy them, Y/n, and we all get to rest. Doesn’t it sound nice to rest?” Your eyes flashed to his face long enough to see a smile on his lips, then you looked at your feet. “Good. It’s good to have you on board.” He set a hand on your shoulder. “Crowley will take you to some supplies. It might be good to have an offering when you make it back to Camp Chitaqua.”

Lucifer disappeared in a blink and Crowley stepped up. “Follow me, darling.”

You followed him without a word, mind stuck on what Lucifer wanted of you; what Satan just tasked you with. If you did it, that was so much worse than just giving up. It was ensuring the end of the human race.

No Croats attacked as you followed. “They listen to you?” you wondered aloud as Crowley guided you toward a library.

“No. Not _me_.”

“Lucifer then. Makes sense.”

“Fill up yer bag and then head out. No tellin’ how long he’ll keep ‘em quiet.”

You slung your backpack off of your back and started tossing food and ammo and meds into the pockets. A bottle of whiskey caught your eyes and it was the last thing you put away before zipping the bag and putting it on your back. You nodded at the demon and licked your lips before walking away.

There was no trouble on the way back to camp, which took you several days, even after you found a bike...standing on its kickstand in the middle of the Interstate. Another gift from the Devil.

You were met with rifles when you rode up to the gate but you were expecting as much. You put your hands up and dropped to your knees beside the bike as they approached. They held position until Dean walked out. He was more than a little shocked to see you, it was obvious on his face.

“Spence said you were dead,” he growled.

“I can understand the confusion since he left me for dead with a swarm of Croats on my ass, but fortunately he was fucking wrong,” you snapped.

“And you expect me to believe that you just hopped on a bike and escaped Detroit like it was no big deal?”

“Actually, I _ran_ out of Detroit and found the bike on the road home and it was a big fucking deal, Winchester. The fact that I’m alive is a big fucking deal to me.”

He licked his lips and examined you for a moment before shaking his head. “Nah. Don’t trust you. Boys.” He nodded at the guards and you clenched your teeth, preparing to be shot, but scowling at Dean anyway.

“Dean! Wait!” Castiel shouted, running out of the gate. “What are you doing?”

“Come _on_ , Cas. There’s no way she spent all this time out there by herself and _didn’t_ get infected,” Dean said as Castiel came over and stood between you and the guns.

“Is she showing _any_ signs?” Castiel demanded.

“Better safe than sor-”

“You can’t kill her on suspicion, Dean. Quarantine her. Give her time to prove she’s not a Croat. If she shows signs, I’ll kill her myself,” Castiel offered.

Dean let out an angry breath and bit into his bottom lip. “Fine! She’s yours. Quarantine her in her cabin. You keep an eye on her, but don’t get close, Cas.”

You huffed angrily and stood, brushing off your knees and picking up your bike, walking it into the camp with Castiel following you.

“Spencer said you were dead,” the Angel finally said as you approached your cabin.

“He left me to die...and it wasn’t a mistake,” you said, leaning the bike against the side of your cabin and stomping up your porch steps. Castiel followed and leaned back against your door as you took your bag off and set it on your table. He didn’t dispute that Spencer left you on purpose. You rolled your eyes and sat down, putting your feet up on your table. “I don’t even know why I came back here. Seems like the folks here want me dead just as much as the Croats do.”

“Not all of us,” Castiel argued quietly.

You scoffed and rolled your eyes. Big words from the one who was having an orgy with his best friend when you were sent away to die. “Look. Just don’t. You don’t have to pretend. Thank you for saving my ass out there. I’m not infected. You can keep an eye on me from outside of my cabin.”

"Y/n. I'm not pretending." He sighed and scratched at his scruff. "I know what you must think. I know you must have realized that Dean-”

You dropped your feet to the wood floor of the cabin and glared at him. “Dean told me to my face that he was sending me away because I was _changing_ you. He didn’t expect me to make it back. Spencer left me on purpose. I was supposed to die out there. Imagine his disappointment in this moment.” You stood and pulled down the zipper of the backpack. “He sent me to die and you were having a party with _my_ beer and your little groupie whores. Fuck off, _Cas_.”

He looked hurt that you called him by the moniker Dean coined, that he was no longer ‘Castiel’ to you, that you were so upset that you couldn’t see him as the Angel anymore. “Y/n, I’m sorry. It was a mistake for me to party with Dean and those women. It was a distraction, so that I wouldn’t know what he had planned for you. I didn’t know until it was hours too late.”

“Because you were busy,” you snapped, twisting the top off of the whiskey and taking a deep drag straight from the bottle.

“Yes, I was busy...with my groupie whores,” he admitted, a little stilted. He sighed as he watched you drink another gulp of the whiskey before you set the bottle on the table. “I shouldn’t have let myself be distracted. I should have been with you.”

“But you weren’t.” You bounced your head from side to side and dug into the bag further. “And it’s fine. You shouldn’t be expected to change yourself for me. Shouldn’t have to stop being a celebrity man-whore just because a stupid girl thought she got through to you. You shouldn’t be expected to better yourself or care about anyone other than your leader. Don’t even have to care about yourself...and you haven’t in years.”

“But I did change, Y/n,” he insisted, stepping away from the door. “I’m so sorry that you feel like you didn’t get through to me, but you have. You…” He bit his lip and picked up the bottle of whiskey, examining it. “I have not spoken to Heaven in five years. I haven’t even tried. It seemed a futile enterprise since the moment I fell. But when Spencer told me that you were dead...I prayed.”

Your eyes snapped to his as he swallowed thickly.

“I prayed for you. I asked the Angels to let you in. I cried and begged them to let the last good human being come home to Heaven.” He set the bottle back down and stepped closer to you. “I know it doesn’t mean much. But I prayed and I...I got rid of all of my _heavy_ drugs the morning I thought you died. As much as I wanted to medicate and push it all down and numb myself, I knew you didn’t want that. You wouldn’t want me to do that. So, I haven’t done anything harder than a joint in days.”

You looked up into his eyes as he stepped ever closer to you. You couldn’t stop thinking how it wasn’t fair for him to do this. “I’m not what I was, Y/n, but I’m better than I used to be. Better than I was for years. I know it was stupid of me to have sex with those women, to allow Dean to distract me with an orgy, but I want you to know that...I wasn’t _not_ thinking of you when I was with them.”

You rolled your eyes and stepped away from him. “That’s flattering.”

“I think I worded that poorly,” he started to defend.

“No, I think you worded it just fine, Cas.”

“Please, don’t call me that,” he whispered. “I know you’re hurt, but-”

“I’m not hurt. I’m pissed off,” you argued, swiping the bottle off the table. “I’m _livid_ that I let myself get so _played_. That I let myself think that you might be…” You took a swig from the bottle and scoffed. “Doesn’t matter what I thought. Just matters that it was stupid. I’m an idiot to have even come back here.”

He grabbed the bottle from your hand and slammed it on the table, grabbing you by your upper arms and pulling you against him, forcing you to look up into his eyes. “I messed up. I understand that, but when I came to you that day and I laid with you, I was trying to solidify a connection I thought we had. I should never have let Dean pull me into a distraction while he tried to kill you off, but I...I didn’t know what he was trying to do.”

You swallowed, slapping his hands away as you stepped toward your room. “It’s fine. I survived...and I’m _not_ infected. You can leave.”

You wanted to look back at him, but you just closed your bedroom door and lied down on your bed. It was hard to hold onto your anger with him talking about connections and praying for you. It was confusing and painful.


End file.
